Helplessly Dependent
by scrumptiousinternetllama
Summary: Parvati had always been taught to never be dependent on anybody — or anything. That meant lovers, friends, relationships — hell, even ideas could fizzle out on you.


Magpies

Seeker

 **A/N:** This is the Seeker from the Montrose Magpies writing for QLFC Round 10.

Prompt: 1940: I'll Never Smile Again — Tommy Dorsey

Word count: 962

Helplessly Dependent

She had always been strong, but right then, in that desperately bleak moment, she wasn't. Parvati had always been taught to never be dependent on anybody — or anything. That meant lovers, friends, relationships — hell, even ideas could fizzle out on you. She had kept this in her mind, carefully studying those who she allowed to become part of her inner circle; she laughed and cried around them, but make no mistake, she was never vulnerable.

Her mother, Rani Patil, had given her the advice when she was young and impressionable, and it had stuck with the young woman throughout her life, although at the beginning, she had never quite understood it. She listened and followed nonetheless. Her mother was a strong woman; she had carried her and her sister, alone, over oceans to meet her family in India when they were only infants…

Her first heartbreak was when she lost her mother. Dependency, as was mentioned before, was not a trait that Parvati made a habit of possessing. Throughout her life, her mother had been her rock, her anchor; solid and unmoving and entirely dependable. She was immortal in the eyes of her children; her advice and wise words were always relevant in their lives, always echoing through their every decision and every move.

So when Parvati was called out of her primary school class, where she had been writing to her pen pal, and was led to the head-teacher's office, she didn't quite understand what was being said. She didn't understand why there was a police officer sat with her twin sister, who was rolling a toy car around on the table that held the awards that were going to be handed out in assembly later that afternoon. She had wanted to win at least one to take home to her parents; she knew how proud they would be. Padma was usually the one to win things, after all.

When she arrived, the two of them were escorted out of the building, into the back of a police car, and taken away to the hospital. That was where her mother's advice rang true — in the echoes of her heart shattering into millions of pieces.

Time had tried its best to heal things, but it hadn't quite completed the job — for her or for Padma. Her father had been hit the hardest, it seemed, and he retreated into himself, although he did try plastering a smile on his face for their sake. They had all been dependent, really; they just hadn't realised it.

Hogwarts marked the stage in the girls' lives where they could escape from the shadow of the past — from the constant reminders of what they had lost. They studied, they laughed, they loved, and they made memories there, but throughout, Parvati was more wary than ever. She kept those who she got to know at arms length, and most gave up trying to know her as it was just too difficult. There were a select few who were persistent, and she reluctantly allowed them a place in her heart, but she never let them plant roots there. Roots would only hurt her more when they were eventually torn out.

Dean Thomas was one of those people. He was kind and polite, and funny in a quiet sort of way — well, quiet in comparison to Seamus, his best friend. Over the years, she got to know the young man. He always surprised her, whether it was with kind words, trips around the castle, or stolen kisses in hidden alcoves.

She worried for him, though. Adoration and trust were written clearly in his eyes, and she knew there would be a day when they weren't together anymore, or when one of them would be taken from the other. It would be cruel, and it would hurt, but she knew nothing good ever really lasted. She would be fine, of course — she had made sure of that — but she knew that he wouldn't be.

So she tried to distance herself from him. It didn't work. Instead, Padma pulled her aside at breaks and lunches and told Parvati that she loved her, and she understood what she was doing, but she was hurting Dean, and more importantly, she was hurting herself. She told Parvati that yes, their mother's advice was important, and yes, it was relevant, and it was something that should be followed, but not at the cost of their happiness. No, their mother would never have wanted that.

Parvati cried, and so did Padma, and they held each other for the longest time before they went to their separate common rooms.

The next day was a Saturday, and Parvati sought out Dean. They found each other, and a long walk through the melting frost cleared the fog between them, allowing them to see each other clearly, and so much more personally than before.

It was their seventh year when Dean didn't come back to Hogwarts. It hurt; it hurt so, so much, but she kept hope — through all those long autumn nights, she kept hope that he would return, or that there would be some message from him. She whispered to her mother during the nights, begging her for more advice; something heaven-sent was surely the only thing that could heal her heart now.

She got her sign during their first half-term holiday. Her father walked in, grim-faced, and placed the Daily Prophet in front of her. He left the room after saying only two words: "Read it."

So she did. And in the midst of the pages, she saw the words re-arranging, shifting into a messy scrawl that she recognised instantly.

 _I'm okay._ That was all it said.

It was enough.


End file.
